Читать книгу Mrs. Morris and the Ghost of Christmas Past - Traci Wilton - Страница 12

CHAPTER FOUR

Charlene’s mom snagged the front seat of the Pilot, so her dad took the back, and they headed into town to see the holiday lights at Pickering Wharf. Sunny but chilly, they’d dressed for the weather to enjoy walking around while she pointed out places of interest. Charlene was delighted to show her parents more of Salem, wanting them to like it as much as she did.

“We can have lunch at Cod and Capers,” she told her folks. “It’s on the wharf and has a wonderful view. Sharon Turnberry is the manager there. You both met her last night. The redhead . . . her husband was the one who ran out after David?”

“I remember.” Her mother shifted in her seat so she could include them both in the conversation. “A tall lady, midforties I’d guess, but it’s hard to say with all the plastic surgery people do these days. Her hair was dyed. Nobody but Lucille Ball, or maybe Carol Burnett, had that color of hair.”

“You forgot Prince Harry,” her father said dryly. “He’s a redhead too. Doubt he gets his hair colored.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Michael. He was born with it, and everyone wondered where it came from. Charles didn’t have it, and Diana was a mousy brown until she got highlights. You know how these things go.”

“No, I don’t,” he said to his wife. “Why don’t you tell us?”

“Okay, you two. No more snarking at each other. Let’s enjoy this beautiful day.” They were passing Bella’s when Charlene spotted some cars in the parking lot. Police tape still secured the area where the crime had been committed.

“They’re open.” Her mind swirled and she thought about stopping. “How can that be?”

“It’s probably just police business,” her father said. “I can’t imagine they’re serving lunch today. I’ve been thinking about that wonderful soup ever since my cinnamon roll this morning. What was that? A few hours ago?”

“You want to stop, Dad? We can have your soup and then go to the wharf for the afternoon.”

“Whatever you want is fine by me.” He shot the restaurant a longing glance.

“I wonder if they’ve caught the hit-and-run driver yet.” Her mother rubbed her hands together. “I can’t resist a good mystery. Let’s make a quick stop and see if there’s any new information. Then we can go shopping and see the sights.”

“All right.” Charlene switched plans and pulled into the parking lot, avoiding the area taped off. As she climbed out of the SUV, she couldn’t help but feel a tightness in her chest. David had been maybe ten years older than Jared when he’d been killed by a drunk driver.

The restaurant was at the end of a row of businesses, and the only food establishment. A green and white awning drew the customers’ attention, and today’s specials were listed on a blackboard. Next to Bella’s was a fabric store, and there was a dry cleaners at the far side.

Jessica greeted them when they entered. “You’re back so soon?” Her voice quivered. Her smeared mascara indicated that she was a wreck and probably should have stayed home.

“We came for the soup,” her dad said.

Jessica tried to smile, but tears slid down her cheek. Charlene gave the pitiful young woman a quick hug.

Why had David given Jessica that check? Jessica had said herself that he didn’t have to, but he wanted to help her with her student loans. Why would he give her money and not his own son?

Jessica showed them to a table far away from the window, with a Sorrento mural painted on the wall behind. She handed them each a menu. “It’s been awful around here. Everyone’s in shock, calling and asking questions. They can’t believe David is gone. Me either.”

“I’m so sorry, for you, for everybody,” Charlene said gently. “Especially his family. They must be hurting so much.”

“Good thing he gave out all those checks last night.” Brenda nudged the menu on the table. “Had it happened going in, nobody would have got a thing.”

Michael shook his head, giving his wife an incredulous look. “Don’t you have any empathy in your heart?”

“Course I do. I feel sorry for David. He didn’t live long enough to spend his cash, and now his wife will be up to no good while he’s churning in his grave.”

Jessica took a step back, bumping into the chair behind her. Her face had paled, her mouth trembled.

“Mother. That’s quite enough.” Charlene held out a hand toward Jessica. “Excuse her, she doesn’t mean half the things she says.”

“I just speak the truth.” Her mom had the good grace to lower her eyes. “I don’t mean to be hurtful.”

“I’ll bring you some water while you decide on your order.” Jessica hurried off.

“Now see what you’ve done? I swear you have Tourette’s,” her father grated out the words. “Probably get extra salt in my soup because of you, woman.”

“I think I’ll have the clam chowder.” Brenda ignored her husband’s comment. “What about you, Charlene?”

She wasn’t really hungry. “The Caesar salad with blackened shrimp.”

Jessica dropped off their iced waters with lemon and picked up their menus. There were only two other occupied tables and both of them had been served. “Have you decided?” she asked in a tight voice.

They gave her their order, and Charlene excused herself from the table. “I’ll just be a moment. I’d like to wash my hands.”

Instead of using the ladies’ room, she cornered Jessica when she came out of the kitchen. “I want to apologize for my mother. She takes some getting used to. I tried for about forty years, then moved here from Chicago.” Charlene rolled her eyes. “Dad ignores her most of the time.”

Jessica crossed her arms. “Well, she had a point, unfortunately. I just can’t make sense of it. I spent half the night trying to understand why David hurried out of here like that. What was he saying? Shouting names I’ve never heard of. He looked confused, stumbling. Do you think he had a stroke?”

“That occurred to me. I’m sure the medical examiner will determine the cause of death. Of course, he died from his injuries, but what happened before that? It was such odd behavior. I heard something about a person named Zane?”

“Yeah, Zane works at the gym with Tori. You know she’s a fitness instructor, right? Well, he’s a body builder and does weight training.”

“Do you think . . .” She left the sentence open-ended but alluded to an affair.

“I don’t know anything for sure.” Jessica looked around to see if anyone was within earshot and lowered her voice. “David told me that he and Tori were having problems recently. They were discussing divorce last summer. Then, of course, he wins the lottery and Tori is all smiles again.”

Charlene had seen more sour expressions than smiles but let it drop. “What was with all the checks that were passed out? Did David owe everyone money?”

“He didn’t owe me that—it was a gift. I don’t know about the others.” Jessica stuck her hand in her pocket, regarding the diners to see if she was needed.

“I’m glad David did what he could. Hey, how is that new girl, from last night? Poor thing must be traumatized.”

“Avery’s tough—she has to be. But yeah . . . last night was rough—David told her not to come back. He’d given her a try, despite her lack of experience, as a favor to me.”

“Does she live at Felicity House?”

“At the teen house. No parents to speak of. As I said, she’s had it tough. I like her, though—she reminds me of me. Only with piercings and tattoos.”

Charlene laughed softly.

“Thanks for caring, Charlene.” Jessica stepped aside as one of the diners headed toward the restroom. They stood in the narrow hallway between the kitchen and the manager’s office. “Let me check on your order.”

Charlene was about to return to her table when she heard Vincent yelling at someone in his office. She stayed to listen.

“I’ll fold up this restaurant before I sink another cent into it,” she heard him say.

She didn’t hear a reply and figured he might be on the phone. Just then the door opened, and a red-faced Vincent with a big cigar in his hand stormed into the hall to survey the nearly empty restaurant.

He seemed surprised to see her standing outside the door. A young man in a white chef’s jacket ducked past her on his way to the kitchen.

“Last warning, Dalton,” Vincent called after the chef ’s retreating back. His eyes narrowed on her. “Did you want something?” Vincent breathed heavily.

“No, I’m sorry. I was about to visit the ladies’ room.” She took a step back. “You might not remember me. I was here with my parents last night. Charlene Morris. I own the bed-and-breakfast down the road.”

“Yes. Yes, of course.” Vincent tugged a hand through his graying hair. “David couldn’t have died at a worse possible time.” The cigar shook between his fingers. “We were in the middle of negotiations. He didn’t want his share of the restaurant any longer.”

“That makes sense I guess, since he won the lottery; he probably planned on traveling or something.”

“You have no idea what’s going on. Nobody does! I gave David a start here, loaned him the money for his half, and this is how he pays me back?” His voice grew louder, making heads turn. “I’ve got my lawyer on it right now.”

She met his gaze as they were about the same height, glimpsing sorrow beneath the anger. “I’m sorry for your loss. For the whole family—I met his son briefly last night. Will they be all right?”

“I don’t know what David’s intentions were toward Kyle, but if that scrawny yoga instructor has anything to do with it, he won’t get a cent. His poor wife too. Ex-wife, I should say. Linda’s a damn fine woman.”

“It must be a terrible shock to both of them. I’d like to pay my condolences to her and her son.”

“Yeah? Kyle lives with his mom, right across town. That kid’s nothing but trouble, but Linda dotes on him like he’s the second coming.”

“What kind of trouble?” she asked pleasantly, hoping to prolong the conversation.

He didn’t need much poking, his emotions had no filter.

“Petty stuff, mostly, but it’s not entirely his fault. They both got shafted when David took up with the town tramp. I hope he left something to them in the will, and that it’s someplace safe so Tori can’t dispose of it.”

“You think she’d do that?” Charlene softened her voice and looked down the hall to make sure no one was around. “She wasn’t very likable last night. I could see she resented giving any of the money away.”

“That’s putting it mildly.” Vincent chewed on his cigar. “I wouldn’t put anything past her. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got an appointment in town—had to pay my lawyer extra to meet on a Sunday.” He brushed past her, and Charlene rejoined her table.

“Well, I got quite a bit of information in the past few minutes.” She slid into her seat. “Eat up, and I’ll tell you all about it on the ride to the wharf.”

Jessica had dropped off their lunch while she’d been talking to Vincent, so she dug into her salad while her father wolfed down his favorite soup. Her mother complained that the clam chowder was too salty and didn’t have enough clams.

Charlene’s dad told her to “clam up.”

As they were leaving, she asked Jessica for Linda and Kyle’s last name and their address, if she knew it, so she could send a sympathy card. The waitress returned with the information written on Bella’s stationery. Charlene’s father insisted on paying the bill, adding a generous tip for Jessica.

The three of them put on their winter coats and traipsed out to the Pilot. Her mother nabbed the front seat, leaving Dad in the back again. This was a new game her mom was playing—or maybe Charlene hadn’t noticed before. She shared what she’d learned on the short drive to the wharf.

“What I don’t understand is who killed David,” her mother said. “I’ve got my thinking cap on and decided it can’t be the floozy. We saw her all night. But I like the secret lover for this. What’s his name? Zane? Such a lame name—you think he made it up?”

“Mom, you watch too much crime TV.” She sounded like a detective in a noir cop show, Charlene mused.

“Hit-and-run accidents happen all the time,” her father pointed out. “Doesn’t mean someone was out to kill David. It could’ve been an unfortunate accident.”

The route to the wharf took them past the station, and Charlene glanced at the building, wondering how much of this Sam knew. A large American flag waved in the breeze. “That’s the police station.”

Charlene noticed a motorcycle with KYLE on the license vanity plate parked in front. In a city with fewer than 45,000 people, chances were good that the bike belonged to David’s son. She pointed it out to her parents. “I wonder if Sam brought Kyle in for questioning.”

“Probably. If his ex-wife didn’t do it, or the lover, then it had to be his son.” Her mother spoke with authority. “It’s always a family member, everyone knows that.”

“Brenda, don’t you ever get tired of knowing everything?”

Charlene drove on by. It was true that Kyle had left in a fit of anger. But could he have had something to do with his father’s death? Vincent had said the boy was nothing but trouble, but patricide was more than “trouble.” She wished she could talk to Sam about this, but he’d drawn a clear line in the sand, and they weren’t on the same side of it. He couldn’t discuss the cases with her and wanted her to stop poking around and interfering in police business. So far, that hadn’t worked out.

This past Halloween, she’d been kidnapped by a couple of boys for asking too many questions about a young woman’s death. And before that . . . well, she’d been having a house party when a killer had entered from an unlocked window. A knife had been held to Minnie’s throat.

She gulped, shutting down the reminders that Sam was probably right. Twice she’d been in harm’s way—but it hadn’t been her fault. Death had happened around her, same as David’s tragic accident. The irony that she’d moved from Chicago to escape the quicksand of Jared’s passing was not lost on her.

She parked at the pier, lucking out with a spot near Vintage Treasures antique shop. The town of Salem was festively decorated, from the large fir tree in the square to each individual store window: lights, ornaments, poinsettias, and evergreens. Streetlamps were wrapped in garlands, and restaurants had their awnings out. It was an old and beautiful city, a far cry from the bustle of Chicago, but Charlene loved this seaside town and wanted her parents to be happy for her. She had found her forever home, whether they liked it or not.